


"i used to see the way the world could be..."

by Anonymous



Series: low, keep your head, keep your head low [1]
Category: Sleepy Boys Inc., Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Duelling, Explosions, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, Temporary Character Death, Tommy needs a hug, Trauma, Whump, angst with a surprisingly happy ending should be a tag, bad is a badass, dream appears right at the end, ha, he gets one, in which i beat the shit out of sapnap, let phil join the damn server you COWARDS, no beta we die like women, phil punches three (3) people, povs jump around a bunch rip, this is minecraft, wilbur is an ass what can i say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:42:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27244411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "...but now the way it is, is all i see"By the time Phil joins the server, everything is unravelling at the seams. Wilbur's gone mad, Techno right by his side. Schlatt rules with an iron fist and silences those who dare speak or act out. Tommy and Tubbo are terrified for their lives. Dream is nowhere to be found.And Phil intends to fix that.title from hadestown (doubt comes in)
Relationships: Darryl Noveschosch & Sapnap, Dave | Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, GeorgeNotFound & Darryl Noveschosch & Sapnap, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, the only ship here is friendship :))))
Series: low, keep your head, keep your head low [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1994845
Comments: 54
Kudos: 706
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Ph1LzA joined the game

**Author's Note:**

> so the way that respawn works in this world is that the more energy that is used at the time of death by the victim, the longer it takes for them to properly heal. a quick death (an arrow to the head, an explosion) will warrant maybe five minutes of extra sleep straight after respawn, while a slower death with the victim's body fighting to stay alive will take longer to come out of that post-respawn sleep. this is because the body needs time to heal properly. because they can't eat or drink while in this sleep, often people with slow deaths come out of them extremely weak.
> 
> ** slight au in that quackity is still 'loyal' to schlatt and niki hasn't left

**_Ph1LzA joined the game._ **

Phil had been worried. He still was. Worried over his brothers mostly, who’d almost completely stopped sending him letters. (A little part of his mind was cursing him for leaving the three to their own devices for so long.) Tommy was the last to communicate with him, and that was two weeks ago. Since then, it had been complete radio silence.

So, when someone inside finally gave him permission to join, he’d done the only thing he could do, and had reread the letters to build up a picture of events before descending into the chaos himself, armed and with some food, potions, tools and other…important items.

The space around was colourful, with concrete and wool and all different kinds of wood, some buildings tall enough for him to not be able to even see the top. He heard footsteps approaching, accompanied by voices, and ducked into the shadow behind the nearest building, padding inside without taking the time to marvel at the quartz interior. Spawn needed to be changed if he was going to stay here. He’d have to fix that later, when he was reunited with his brothers again.

But now, he needed to escape. From what he could discern from the letters, no one within the city (L’Manberg was it called?) was trustworthy. Especially the president.

“Hello?” A rough, accented voice called out. “Mr, uh, Phil? God, what kinda name did you choose here? Jesus.” A man in a business suit with curling ram horns paced around spawn. Two other men, one with a blue shirt and goggles, the other with a suit similar to the ram’s and fox ears, stood behind him, netherite swords at the ready. Phil surveyed the group with calm eyes, wishing he’d brought something of his own more and more every second. “Anyway, you’re in our great nation without a visa or permission. So could you kindly come out and declare yourself?”

Phil took out his axe. Iron was what he’d brought for simplicity’s sake. He had a bow as well, just in case. Non-enchanted, but there were fifty or so arrows in his quiver which was more than enough. By now, he hoped that his brothers would’ve seen his arrival and would be ready for him, wherever they were.

He just needed to get out of the walls. Tommy mentioned something about a ravine on the outskirts of the city that acted as their temporary base. It was somewhere in the nearby forest of oak trees. Something, something, skeleton horse, something, something.

He'd find it soon enough. How hard could it be?

Well. Considering that the president hadn’t found it, probably hard, but Phil was willing to bet that he knew his brothers far better than the president did.

Slinging the quiver over his shoulder and gripping the bow tightly in his left hand, he hunched over slightly as he began moving out of the building, taking to the shadows mostly as he worked his way south. The midday sun cut the darkness he had to work with down making it far more difficult to escape.

Five near-captures later (the buildings were ugly, but they provided good cover), he was at the edge of the territory, it seemed, standing on a pier that overlooked a crystalline ocean. The potion of water breathing was already out of his pocket when a voice behind him made him freeze.

“Who are you?”

Phil turned around slowly, face to face with what looked like a demon. Black skin, black clothes edged with red, horns poking from the top of his head and sharp little fangs. He let loose a shaky exhale. “What’s it to you?”

The demon’s glasses slid down his nose, prompting him to push them back up as he lowered his crossbow and looked around furtively. “It doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “You’re with L’Manberg, right?” Phil nodded cautiously, body tightly sprung and ready to bolt. The demon smiled at him. “I’m Bad.” A shout came from behind Bad, whose expression turned stern. “Go,” he urged. “Go fix this mess.”

Phil wasted no time, chugging the potion and leaping into the watery depths below, diving right down to the seabed and swimming forward. He could hear yelling from above, muffled by the water in his ears but he didn’t dare stop, driving forward, ducking into a cluster of kelp for a minute to catch his breath before surfacing briefly to check if he was going in the right direction. The forest Tommy had described was right ahead, civilisation left far behind.

Phil had a plan in mind.

He couldn’t wait to see them again.

* * *

Tommy had been out with Tubbo in their special place when Phil had arrived. He and Tubbo had started a flower garden, stemming from when Tubbo brought red poppies in memory of L’Manberg’s independence. Since then, they’d been adding to it with all kinds of other flowers. Daisies, sunflowers, bluebells, cornflowers. The field was a rainbow at this point, and full of buzzing bees, much to Tubbo’s delight.

Tommy knew at that point, that their spot needed to stay secret. Even from Wilbur.

Tubbo was the one who bothered to check his communicator to catch the time. They had a curfew, instigated by Wilbur. Tommy hated it, but could go against it.

“Someone new joined the server!” Tubbo exclaimed in his soft voice. Tommy’s eyebrows quirked in feigned interest.

“Who?” he asked absently, carefully planting a dandelion into an empty spot. He brushed his dirty hands against his pants, wincing at the brown smears. Oh, Wilbur would be pissed.

“Some guy. Uh, Ph-one-uh. This is a weird name.” Tommy huffed, opening his own communicator and flicking to the newest messages.

The shovel slipped from his fingers. “Oh my fucking god,” he whispered in a mixture of awe and horror. Tubbo looked up at him in mild concern as Tommy shook himself off and jumped up. “Tubbo, we’ve got to go.”

“Why?” Taken off-guard by his friend’s sudden intensity, he offered no resistance to Tommy grabbing his hand and pulling him along, away from their place and back into the woods. Not toward the ravine, though. But to the shore opposite the pier.

Tommy stopped behind a cluster of trees, pressing a palm against Tubbo’s mouth. Both of them gasped for air from the run, but Tommy only felt adrenaline. He was waiting, the most patient he’d ever been, eyes staring at the water.

Doubts crept into his mind. _What if he’s been taken hostage? What if he’s not coming this way? What if he’s gone? What if he’s betrayed them?_

Tommy checked the communicator again. He hadn’t died. The waiting game continued, but for only five, mind numbing minutes. Only until a waterlogged, bedraggled figure surfaced from the water, dragging himself up to the shore and collapsing on the sand. Tubbo recognised the potion affects as little particles swirling around him. He didn’t recognise the man, however.

Tommy did.

He whooped and ran out from the tree cover, tackling the figure on the ground, laughing brightly. The man laughed as well, sitting up and cradling Tommy close to his chest. He was old, Tubbo could see. Maybe the oldest one in the server.

He approached shyly, feet sinking into the sand. Tommy’s head was still buried in the man’s shoulder when he looked up at Tubbo, with warm, blue eyes. His bucket hat was still somehow fixed firmly on his head despite the swim. “Hello,” he said brightly. “I’m Phil. Tommy’s older brother.”

The name stirred something in Tubbo’s memories. He’d heard that name from Tommy before! “I’m, uh, Tubbo. It’s nice to meet you Phil,” he said, rather formally.

Phil nodded with a smile, somehow getting to his feet with Tommy still clinging onto him. “Tommy’s told me plenty about you.” Oh. That was weird. “Nothing bad, I promise.”

“Oh.” It slipped out before he could stop it, but Phil just laughed good-naturedly and set Tommy down. Tommy held onto his sleeve however, wiping at his face quickly. His whole shirtfront was soaked from seawater, just like Phil who was even worse off and covered in wet sand to boot. Tubbo made a face involuntarily. It didn’t look comfortable at all.

But Phil seemed to pay it no mind, only keeping Tommy close to him in an ongoing side hug. “So, tell me what’s been happening. We have a lot to catch up on, since _someone_ stopped sending letters.” The last part was mostly said in a joking way, but real concern underlaid the statement. Phil glanced around. It was far too open here. They’d have to move, lest anyone found them prematurely. He needed to know their situation before moving forward.

Tommy bit his lip. “Well, uh, quite a lot actually,” he muttered, glancing at Tubbo who shrugged in response.

“Right. Let’s talk somewhere private.”

Confusion flashed in Tommy’s eyes. “Don’t you want to hear from Wilbur?”

“I do, but first, I want to hear it from you.” Wilbur was the first to cut communications. Something was terribly amiss with him. “Let’s get out of here.”

* * *

“…And now, Wil wants to blow up L’Manberg so that _no one_ can live in it, and Techno’s all for it as well! No one even _tried_ to listen to me or Tubbo, and Niki is the only other one here who we feel like we can actually trust. And she had to go _back!_ ”

Phil’s mouth hung open in shock. His eye twitched as his brain tried desperately to process all of…that. Tubbo readjusted his shirt, but the scarred, ruined tissue of burn scars was still branded fresh in his mind. Bile rose in his throat.

Phil saw red.

“Phil?” Tubbo called meekly. “Are you alright, there?”

 _Techno did that._ Rage, boiling hot rage, spilled into his chest. He stared straight at Tubbo’s chest, blinking away tears. He wasn’t quite sure why they’d sprung up, considering the last thing he felt was sad in any way. “I need to talk to them,” he said quietly. Anger ran an undercurrent in those words.

Tommy bit his lip. “Good luck with that. Wilbur’s gone batshit and Techno’s being Techno.”

Tubbo nodded. “They’ve planted explosives already. It’s really only a matter of pressing the button.”

Phil’s head spun. “Herobrine give me strength.” Tommy’s eyes widened at the curse. Placing his head into his hands, Phil took five deep breaths, willing himself the energy to deal with this war. “Alright.” He spoke after a few seconds. “Alright. Tommy, where is Techno? Knowing him, he’s got a hidey-hole somewhere around here.”

Tommy hummed. “I’ll show you whenever you want to go. He said he’d be out mining for diamonds today, so you’ve got to wait a few hours before he arrives.” Tommy looked nervous for a second. “We have a curfew though, and Wilbur would be pissed if we missed it.”

Phil smiled, small and strained. Tommy was _afraid_ of Wilbur. The rage continued, burning his heart. “Then get back to him. I’ll come as soon as possible.” Phil hesitated for a split second. “Things’ll be alright, Tommy.”

The brightest smile fixed itself on Tommy’s face and Phil could almost forget the war for a bit.

* * *

Sapnap was home, alone and mending his bow. He was alone a lot. George still technically lived there with him, but he’d set his respawn to wherever Schlatt was at that moment. He still hadn’t taken his stuff. It was fine though. Sapnap just didn’t touch it. George would come back for his items.

Right?

Dream was another story entirely. The guy hadn’t been seen by anyone for weeks. Not since before the festival. Even then, he was only around for a few hours. Never dropped into visit or anything.

But it was fine! Sapnap had friends! Karl and Skeppy and Bad! He didn’t feel lonely with them at least.

He couldn’t kid himself though. It hurt when his two best friends left him. The war hurt. Sapnap still had achy muscles and bruises all over from skirmishes he’d had to break up. Schlatt had decided that food needed to be rationed (complete bullshit because the animals and crops were _completely_ fine!) and everyone was very much on edge from hunger and sleeplessness.

(Karl had gone to Schlatt to complain about their conditions a week ago. He'd come back three days later, half dead.)

No one wanted this. No one had asked for this.

A knock on his door stopped his thoughts from becoming any more treasonous. “Hello? Sapnap?” Skeppy.

“The door’s unlocked!” Sapnap answered, setting his bow aside and standing up. Skeppy wandered in shortly after, looking slightly worse for wear. There was panic in his eyes. “What’s up?”

“Have you seen Bad anywhere?”

Sapnap frowned, warning bells going off in his head. (Karl, lips blue, battered and broken and bloody, jumpy and so, so _scared,_ flashed through his mind.) “No? I thought you two never left each other’s side.”

Skeppy shook his head, fidgeting with his sleeve. “We got separated in the manhunt for this Phil guy who joined earlier, and I haven’t seen him since. Schlatt says he same.” Skeppy lowered his head and dropped his voice. “I think he’s lying.”

Sapnap glanced sharply at the closed door and the windows. None were open. No one heard. “Keep it down!” he hissed. “Don’t try to get us arrested for treason.” Skeppy nodded, but Sapnap knew that look in his eye. He wouldn’t back down from this.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

Sapnap shook his head. “Stay here with me,” he said. Skeppy’s head snapped up. “Just for the time being. Until we find him. If he’s not safe, then neither are you, and I basically have immunity.” So does George. He wondered if that meant his immunity would be overridden if George decreed it.

Skeppy nodded. “I’ll go get my stuff.”

“I’ll come with you.”

Sapnap felt less alone now, but the gaping chasm in his chest hadn’t closed up yet.

* * *

Techno had received the message of Phil’s appearance on the server while he was deep underground. He’d grunted to himself, promising to make the trip a short one so that he could possibly get to the guy before the enemy did.

When his search came up to be fruitless, he’d headed back to his base in defeat, hoping and praying that Wilbur had gotten to Phil before Schlatt did. God knew how many secrets Phil had on them, information that would be catastrophic in the wrong hands.

So imagine his surprise when he landed in his base, spun around and found Phil reading on his bed, looking completely at home. He glanced up at Techno when he walked in, surprisingly impassive. Techno squirmed in his netherite armour, gently placing his axe on a table.

“Sit,” Phil ordered shortly. Techno did, sitting on the edge of the bed next to him. Oh fuck, he was in trouble. “You have a lot to explain to me.”

“Are you disappointed?” Techno blurted out.

Phil just stared at him, filled with conflicting emotions. He shrunk back. “No,” Phil said finally. “I’m pissed.”

“Oh.”

Silence filled the air between them. Only when Techno started shifting uncomfortably in his skin did Phil keep talking. “You’re going to tell me why you shot a kid with fireworks twice. And why you killed him. And why you killed everyone else at that festival. And why you beat the shit out of Tommy.” Phil ticked the actions off on his fingers.

Techno swallowed. “Uh. Peer pressure, mostly.”

The excuse sounded lame now, in front of Phil whose frown got deeper. “What has gotten into you, Techno?” he asked. It felt like a punch to the gut.

“I didn’t-I mean, Schlatt was _right there!_ I couldn’t refuse!” His voice was high in incredulity.

Phil’s eyes turned sad. “I don’t doubt that. But you’re smartest person I know. How many other ways out of there were there?”

Tubbo was encased in concrete. Techno had a pickaxe on him. Quackity and Schlatt were standing on the edge of the podium. Techno had a shield and several ender pearls. He had the fireworks to act as a distraction.

So Techno didn’t answer. Phil nodded with a sigh. “You’ve been fighting for too long. So has Wilbur.” Techno agreed but didn’t voice it. He stared at the floor, unable to meet Phil’s eyes. “Techno.”

Something clogged his throat and he turned away completely. “Leave it Phil. I did what I had to. No one fucking told me about the execution, no one fucking came for either of us. If-If Wilbur had gone through with the explosions then things might’ve been okay.” Tears threatened to spill over. “I stalled Phil. I tried to-I tried to drag it out so that _someone_ would stop it. And Tubbo just told me to go ahead. I didn’t have a choice,” he finished softly.

Phil draped an arm around his shoulders. “I know. I know the war’s been fucking with everyone. I know that this isn’t the Wilbur I wrote to all those months ago. He’s not right in the head and it’s easy to see. I’m sorry that you had to go through that alone. Your actions were born from desperation.” He scooted a little closer. “Did you apologise to Tubbo?”

Techno nodded. “I’m sorry Phil,” he said with a little more force then was necessary. “Really,” he mumbled in a softer tone. He saw ice melt behind his brother’s eyes.

“I know you are Techno. Fuck, so am I. I just want you to be happy and safe. I want to be there for you. _I’m_ partly to blame here, for just letting you go off into this by yourselves.” He scrubbed at his eyes, willing the burning in them to go away. “I’m staying,” he announced. “Until at least things are better, I’m gonna stay.”

Techno’s voice was gravelly when he spoke again. “I’d like that.”

Phil pulled him in close for a hug. Things would turn out okay eventually.


	2. Taking up arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil talks to Wilbur and gets pissed. Meanwhile, George catches up with Sapnap and Bad.

George entered the dark, dingy room with Schlatt, silent as he looked around. A quiet laugh, choked and pained, sounded from somewhere in the corner. “Back again, Schlatt?” George, with a flutter of his heart and a jolt of deja vu, recognised the voice, scratchy and hoarse, as Bad’s.

“With a friend,” Schlatt replied with a smirk. Bad shifted from somewhere in his cell. George’s eyes roamed around, trying to find him in the darkness.

“George?” The question hung in the air, thick and soft. George swallowed his emotions, pulling on a mask of indifference behind his goggles.

“Bad,” he said curtly. “What was your crime?”

Bad was quiet for a bit. “I didn’t commit any crime.”

“So what were you doing, letting an enemy out of Manberg?” Schlatt challenged.

“Helping someone who wasn’t even armed, Schlatt!”

“Helping people, huh?”

George could hear the clink of manacles as Bad inched his way to a standing position. He didn’t want to know how injured he was. “If helping people is outside the law, then I guess I’m a criminal,” he hissed. “Execute me. Exile me. I don’t care. I’m not part of your country Schlatt. And it’s _L’Manberg._ ”

Bad was walking toward them, using the wall as support. George could see red blood smeared on his face, an expression that was filled with pain and his posture, hunched over. “Sit down Bad,” George said monotonously.

Bad turned his gaze toward George, and he felt chills rake up his spine. Bad, gentle, sweet Bad, eyes now nearly completely black with two white pinpricks filled with the purest rage staring right into his soul. George took a step backwards. He forgot that Bad was a demon, that Bad could be terrifying when he wanted to be.

“ _You_ ,” he seethed. “I expected better from you. What do you think Dream would want? For you to sit around while this war went on around you? What about your friends? How long’s it been since you’ve even bothered to _look_ at Sapnap?” His voice had cracked halfway through. George refused to cry. He couldn’t, not now.

Instead, he stared at Bad impassively, eyes tracking his movements and the shackles. He could spot blood staining the metal and his sleeves. There was jagged metal on the inside of the cuff, which teared at the skin. He felt sick. One of Schlatt’s inventions, no doubt.

“I have my reasons. Know your place, Bad,” he added, wincing at himself.

He saw Bad’s face crumple as his knees finally buckled and he slid down on the floor, head leaning on the wall. Tears glimmered in his eyes as the black leeched away. The fight had left him.

Schlatt smiled at George warmly. “Glad we got that sorted. There is another problem though. I think Bad knows where those filthy Pogtopians are hiding, but he just won’t talk no matter what I do. So, George, as one of his former friends, what do you think will crack him?”

George answered immediately, with no hesitation. “Skeppy.” Bad made an awful sound, like a desperate, wounded animal.

“George, please!”

Schlatt nodded thoughtfully. “Never liked that guy. You’re on official arresting business—”

“George _don’t!”_

“—so get on that as soon as possible.”

Bad’s expression was stricken, horrified. “I don’t _know_ where they are!” he screamed. “Please don’t hurt Skeppy!”

Bad and George locked gazes. One, cold and locked behind glasses, the other, filled with tears.

“You can count on me, President Schlatt.”

* * *

Sapnap jumped at the sharp knocks on his door, throwing on a helmet and opening it slightly to peek outside.

“George?” he asked, opening it wider. He didn’t dare hope that he had his friend back again, but a part of him wished it was true.

“Yup.” George stepped into the house, glancing around after shutting the door behind him. “Is Skeppy here?”

At the mention of his name, Skeppy bolted out of his hiding place under the bed, skittering across the floor. “Where’s Bad?” he demanded. Sapnap caught something flicker within his eyes.

“Schlatt has him locked up. He’s being interrogated.” His voice was completely monotone, matching his poker face.

Sapnap’s breath rattled on the way out. “What do you mean, interrogated, George?”

“What do you think it means, Sapnap?” George snapped. Sapnap paled considerably. Skeppy collapsed onto the bed, knees giving underneath him.

“George—” Sapnap breathed, anger in his tone. George held up a hand to silence him.

“I’m under orders to arrest Skeppy for consorting with a traitor to this country. Skeppy, you have to come with me.”

Sapnap stood in front of Skeppy. “No,” he growled. “I’m not letting you George.”

He just blinked at them, drawing his sword slowly. Sapnap willed back the tears and drew his bow, aiming an arrow to his chest. “Sapnap!” Skeppy whispered.

The tension in the air thickened. The room was closing it and breathing was getting difficult. “Don’t do this George. Please.” _Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry._

But then George dropped his sword and kicked it away to the side, toward Sapnap, spreading his arms wide, leaving his chest, neck and head vulnerable. “Kill me,” he intoned.

Sapnap blanched. “Wh-what?”

“Load your bow and shoot me in the head, Sapnap.” He sounded tired with none of his usual verve.

“What the hell is _wrong_ with you?” Sapnap spat, hands beginning to shake.

George sighed. “Don’t you see what I’m trying to do you idiot?” And maybe it was the loneliness talking, but Sapnap could’ve cried over the playful insult which reminded him painfully of old times. “Kill me as a distraction and get yourselves the hell out of here. Go to Pogtopia, or, if they don’t accept you, find somewhere hidden to live. At least until everything’s blown over.”

The two of them gaped at him, and for a moment, George thought he’d have to beat the plan into their stupid skulls. “What about Bad?” Skeppy asked.

“I’ll get him out myself. I’m been trying to push out Wilbur’s double agents as quickly as I can before shit hits the fan.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Pointing to his communicator, George frowned at the two. “Have you two not heard of Philza? As in, Wilbur, Techno and Tommy’s older brother?” Sapnap’s mouth formed an ‘o’ shape.

“They have a _brother_?”

“You seriously didn’t know?” George pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, listen up, both of you. Kill me, get to Pogtopia and ask for Phil. If he questions it, tell him that I was the one who asked for him. He’ll understand. Hide out there for the time being. I’ll have to lure Schlatt out somehow.” The two of them still stood, stock still, staring at him in open mouthed astonishment. “Take my netherite when I disappear. Just in case.” Still no reply. “What?” George snapped, so incredibly tired.

Sapnap swallowed. “I thought you were gone,” he whispered hoarsely. George’s expression softened.

“I never was.” He looked out the window and kicked a nearby chest over. The crash made Skeppy flinch. “Trash the place so it looks like I put up a fight. Take what you absolutely need as well as my netherite. Be safe, you two.”

“Who’s gonna, you know…” Skeppy asked meekly.

Sapnap’s grip on his bow tightened. “I’ll do it. The less of a target on Skeppy’s back, the better.” George nodded and shut his eyes, spreading his arms wide as Sapnap notched his arrow and drew the string back, blinking back tears. “Love you Gogy,” he mumbled.

“I love you too, Sapnap.”

**_GeorgeNotFound was shot by Sapnap_ **

* * *

Wilbur was _pissed._ Tommy and Tubbo carefully descended the steps in their home in the ravine, glancing around furtively for him. “Come on, Tubbo,” Tommy hissed, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward their bedroom, cut out from the wall. “Before Wilbur—”

“ _Tommy_!” They froze in place, not daring to turn around. “Where the _fuck_ have you been?” Wilbur spat, marching up toward them as they arrived on the ground level. Tommy pushed Tubbo behind him on instinct, backing away slowly. Did he know that Phil had come back? Did he care?

“Oh!” Tommy said in faux cheerfulness, eyes scanning for nearby exits. Tubbo gripped his hand tighter. “Hey Wilbur! Didn’t see you there!” Wilbur caught the tremor in his voice and sneered.

“Oh really? Well, hip hip fucking hooray for that. Where have you been?” Wilbur’s hand snatched Tommy’s other wrist and clutched onto it tightly. “I swear if you’ve been out, _fraternising_ with the enemy I’ll make what happened to Tubbo look like a fucking _scratch!_ ” The sentence ended on a screech that echoed off the walls. Tommy and Tubbo looked terrified, the latter close to tears.

“Wilbur,” Tommy tried, tugging his wrist away, “Wilbur stop, you’re hurting me—”

“I don’t give a fucking _shit!_ Where’s Techno? I’ll have him skin you alive!”

And the horrifying thing was that Tommy knew he would.

“ _Wilbur Soot!”_ Phil roared, somewhere from Tommy’s right, marching down toward them, Techno close on his heels. Fury, brighter than fire, danced in his eyes. “You fucking _bastard!_ ”

In his shock, Wilbur let go of Tommy, who took the opportunity to back away toward safety, dragging Tubbo along with him. Techno stood in front of them, axe resting casually on his shoulder, but his eyes were set on Wilbur, deadly still.

Wilbur was still in shock. “Phil?” he whispered, stepping forward. “It’s been so long, I—"

Phil also took a step forward and punched Wilbur in the jaw, rage still bubbling in his eyes. “Who gave you the fucking _right?”_ His head snapped to the side, eliciting a gasp from Tubbo. “I leave you here and I _hoped_ that you’d grow up and at least _try_ to become an adult and what do you do? You start a goddamn _war!_ Not just that, but you fucking drag children into it! Kids! You despicable bastard!”

Wilbur stumbled backward, eyes fixated on Phil. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Stopping you from doing something stupid,” Phil retorted, walking forward and grabbing his shirt. “Tell me right now what you’re planning to do to that country and those people. Tell me about the TNT and the button. Because I swear to god Wilbur, I will whoop your ass if that’s what it takes for you to stop this…this _madness_!”

“Madness?” Wilbur asked, cocking his head with a slow smirk. “What I’m doing isn’t madness. Madness is leaving your younger brothers alone on a server like this without even bothering to come help. Madness,” he hissed, gripping Phil’s wrists tightly, “is _abandoning_ us when we needed you the most!”

The air grew thick with tension. Wilbur glanced behind Phil to look at Techno, who stood impassively, staring him down. He shook his head the tiniest bit. _Don’t do this Wilbur._

“I’m sorry Wilbur,” Phil said quietly, loosening his grip. His jaw was starting to bruise. It would be ugly by tomorrow. “I’m sorry for leaving you in this mess. I should’ve arrived ages ago. Straight after Tommy got his disks stolen.”

Wilbur shoved Phil off of him. “Apologies don’t matter anymore,” he said coldly. “Are you with us, or against us.”

Techno hissed in frustration, motioning for Tommy and Tubbo to leave. This could escalate quickly. Phil’s face was blank, a smooth wall of nothing. It was even more frightening than the anger.

“Who are you?”

Wilbur blinked in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“Who are you?” Phil repeated, studying him intensely through the hair in his eyes. “Because you’re not Wilbur. The Wilbur Soot I knew would have never resorted to any of this. The Wilbur Soot I knew would never have threatened to hurt Tommy or blow a nation of innocents up because of one man. So who are you?”

“The Wilbur Soot you knew died in the first war. He was lost with the election. I’ve grown since then. I’m stronger now because of it,” he snarled back. But he couldn’t look Phil in the eyes.

Phil sighed. “You’re right. The Wilbur I knew was changed by the war he helped fuel. He was changed by sacrifice he never made. The Wilbur I knew has been corrupted by greed and power. He’s forgotten the morals he used to live by.” But then Phil grabbed Wilbur’s arm in a tight grip. “But he sure as shit isn’t dead. So, where is he? Because I know he’s here somewhere.”

They stood like that, staring at each other, tidally locked by forces they couldn’t explain for a long moment.

“Wilbur! Phil!” Tommy sprinted in, Tubbo nowhere to be found. The staring competition was postponed as everyone’s gaze snapped to the kids. “Sapnap and Skeppy,” Tommy gasped, hands on his knees as he doubled over for breath he didn’t have. “They’re _here!”_

“Who?” Phil asked, as Techno and Wilbur bolted out of the ravine. He followed, hot on their heels, outside to a clearing where Tubbo was aiming a crossbow at a…well a kid (he couldn’t be older than twenty) with a white bandana. His hands were raised in surrender. Beside him, a man whose skin shone aquamarine, the same colour as diamond. The kid was in netherite, but his sword was on the ground beside him. He looked relatively calm, though his eyes betrayed anxiety.

“Declare yourselves and your reason to be here! Also, how the _fuck_ did you find us?” Wilbur bellowed.

Techno nudged Phil, sword raised protectively. “Guy in white is Sapnap, he’s a friend of Dream’s. Diamond guy is Skeppy. A friend of mine.” Phil’s gut twisted at Techno’s tone, devoid of…anything.

Sapnap swallowed before he spoke up. “Check your comms.”

Techno did, flipping it open. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Holy shit,” he muttered. Phil looked over his shoulder, furrowing his eyebrows. _George_. It would be soon then.

Sapnap’s hands were still shaking from the ordeal. “Skeppy and I are being hunted by Schlatt and we’d-we’d like to stay here.” Wilbur opened his mouth in fury, but was cut off anyway. “Or just Skeppy! I’ll leave, but you have to hide Skeppy!”

“What happened?” Techno asked, lowering his sword.

Sapnap turned to Skeppy, who still looked very out of it and ready to collapse at any given moment. Sapnap felt his own muscles tingle and ache as well, felt his head pound. But he had to do this for George. 

“Schlatt locked up Bad, and he wanted to lock Skeppy up too. So I killed George for us to escape.” A memory flickered into existence in his mind. “Is there a Philza here?” he asked suddenly.

“What do you want with Phil?” Tommy asked aggressively, shoving his axe in Sapnap’s face. He flinched away, but still stood in front of his friend.

“Tommy, step away. I’m Philza,” the guy in question announced stepping forward. He noticed how Sapnap practically sagged in relief.

“George told me to tell you that he was the one who sent us.” Phil’s eyes lit up in recognition which was swiftly followed by cold determination.

“They’re safe,” Phil announced. Tubbo nodded and lowered his crossbow immediately, far too tired to put up with anything more. Tommy looked incredulous, on the other hand but followed Tubbo’s lead. Techno did the same after scrutinising the two runaways for several uncomfortable seconds.

Wilbur scoffed. “You don’t get to decide who gets let go here. That one,” he said, pointing at Sapnap, “has done _nothing_ for our cause. Hell, he even helped the enemy back in the day.”

So Sapnap backed away, pushing Skeppy in front. “Go with them,” he muttered. “I’ll get out before they kill me.”

“Sapnap!” he hissed, turning back. Wilbur stalked forward with a sword, despite Phil’s attempts to calm his rage and restrain him. Sapnap couldn’t get killed, couldn’t respawn where Schlatt had easy access to him. He couldn’t destroy George’s plan.

“Please don’t hurt Skeppy!” he pleaded, voice breaking as he sprinted into the trees, disappearing altogether.

* * *

Phil had half a mind to deck Wilbur right then and there.

No matter what he said about George, about his (half-baked) plan to finish the war, about the plan to end all of this, the plan to get them back home, Wilbur did not budge. His first act was to lock Skeppy up. He’d been surprisingly listless during it all, not reacting even when Wilbur all but shoved him into the stone cell and his shoulder had smacked painfully into the wall.

It was only when Wilbur had mentioned Bad in an offhand comment, did Skeppy flinch.

“Let him out Wilbur!” Phil exclaimed, ready to rip his hair out.

Wil grit his teeth. “Fuck off, Phil. I did what I had to.” He was suiting up in diamond, on a mission to find the one that escaped. Sapnap had left the sword here in his panic. “Things were better without you. _Now,_ thanks to you, Techno and Tommy won’t even look at me, let alone help me,” he growled, pushing past Phil.

“Why do you even _want_ him?”

Wilbur jammed on a helmet of diamond. “Can’t have him spill our secrets, can we? If he doesn’t do it willingly, they’ll make him talk. Too much of a risk to take.”

Lips pursed, Phil cross his arms. “Fine then. I’ll come with you.”

This made Wilbur stop in his tracks. “What?”

“I’ll come with you. You’re not gonna catch someone in full netherite easily.” It was a half-truth. Phil wanted to come to keep Sapnap from being killed or maimed at the very least. Kid looked terrified to be there and Phil wagered he was even worse off wherever he was.

Wilbur scoffed, but it sounded uncertain. “You’re gonna slow me down. How good even are you at fighting?”

Phil shrugged. “Good enough to hold off that zombie horde on my own that time you broke your leg.”

Something distinctly familiar, something achingly similar to the Wilbur he’d known flashed in the facsimile’s eyes. “Fine,” he mumbled finally. “Take what you need. _Not_ the netherite, we need that for other things. Be ready in half an hour.”

* * *

An hour later, they were hot in pursuit of certain man with a white bandana. Sapnap ran ahead of them, only about twenty or so meters out of reach, dodging and ducking trunks and branches.

Wilbur chased him like a man possessed, cutting through the foliage smoothly. “Sapnap!” he yelled. “Come here, we just want to talk!”

No response. He just kept running, leaping onto a tree branch with the grace of a squirrel and continuing his escape from the canopy. “Shit!”

Wilbur took this into stride, loading his bow, and with deadly accuracy, shooting at Sapnap, who fell out of the tree and crashed to the ground with a yelp. But he was up and running soon after anyway.

“Split up,” Wilbur breathed. “There’s a cliff up ahead, so if we can chase him to the edge, he’ll have to stop.”

Phil nodded and went to the left, herding Sapnap up the mountain.

Higher and higher they climbed, into the knee-deep snow and freezing temperatures. Sapnap, for all of his verve and energy, was tiring out, practically crawling to the top of the mountain. He hauled himself up onto his feet, realising the trap too late and standing defensively, arms raised at Wilbur and Phil. His leg was bleeding, most likely from the fall earlier.

Phil could tell how much the kid wanted to collapse even from a distance.

“Stay back,” he gasped, clutching a stitch in his side.

Wilbur pushed forward. “No. You’re coming with us, fuck-face.”

“Please don’t kill me!” He was hyperventilating, and yet, Wilbur wouldn’t let it go.

The pleas broke Phil’s heart. He bit his lip and clamped a hand on Wilbur’s shoulder. “We aren’t going to hurt you. Just calm down, please.” Approaching slowly, Phil leaned down a few meters away. “I’m going to have to come closer. It’s getting dark and the monsters’ll be out soon. It won’t be safe to stay out anymore after that. You’ll have to come with us.”

Sapnap locked eyes with Phil. “They’re interrogating Bad.”

What. “What do you mean, mate?” Phil asked, somewhat nervously.

“They’re interrogating him. For info he doesn’t have. But they don’t think it’s working so they want Skeppy to hurt instead. They think it’ll make him talk.” His eyes were glassy. “You can’t give them Skeppy. And if I die, I’ll respawn, and they’ll hurt me instead.”

Phil and Wilbur shared a glance. “We won’t give you up, we swear. Just come with us for the time being. George is your friend, isn’t he? Listen, he contacted me before I came, and we have a plan to fix things. Even if you don’t trust Wilbur, trust me. Please.” He held out a hand.

Sapnap glanced at it. “Promise not to let Schlatt get Skeppy?”

“Promise.”

Sapnap took the hand.


	3. A quiet hiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are made, meetings are called and things get explosive.

Schlatt sighed to himself. George, still suffering from the headache that came with his latest respawn, was chugging a healing potion. “Who would’ve thought one of your closest friends would betray you like that?” he asked George, who shrugged in answer, expression sour. “Did you even catch what direction they were heading in?”

Annoyance flashed behind the goggles. “For the last time, Schlatt, we were _inside,_ and he shot me as soon as I mentioned I was going to arrest Skeppy. I was dead before I hit the ground.”

“Right, right, of course.”

Holed up in their office, Schlatt read through the comms, frowning at the deaths and arrivals that had marked the last few hours. From this Philza guy’s sudden appearance to George’s death and Sapnap’s betrayal. Things in the server were speeding up. Something big was approaching.

“Can you even hunt them down?”

George shrugged again. “Hell if I know. They’re probably long gone by now. Maybe even with the Pogtopians,” he said bitterly. Schlatt’s gut twisted.

“Fucking damnit!” he growled, slamming a hand down on his table. “Get Quackity to put up official wanted posters for the both of them. I want them back here stat.”

George sat down with a huff, taking out a pen and a piece of parchment. “Why don’t you call a meeting?” he asked, scribbling things down already.

Schlatt paused. “Elaborate.”

“Okay, so, you’ve already got a bargaining chip, yeah? Those two will do anything if it means Bad might be safe. You can also invite the other traitors.” George hummed again, thinking to himself. “I guess Niki would be good bait.” Saying those words made him want to throw up. “When everyone’s there, give them an ultimatum. Force them into surrender.”

Schlatt smiled at him. “I knew there was a reason I asked you to be my vice. Consider it done. I’ll get preparing.”

“Alright Schlatt.”

George sighed to himself. He needed to pay a visit to Niki, just as a warning, and hope that things would go well.

* * *

Wilbur sighed to himself, rubbing at his eyes. Things in the ravine were worse than ever. Techno and Tommy were actively avoiding him, working overtime on the potato farm with Tubbo. Phil had spoken to Sapnap and Skeppy and had gained a little more information. Wilbur wasn’t allowed into the cell, however.

He walked out an hour later, looking more tired than ever, but the set of his lips was triumphant. “Things are going well,” he said to Wilbur.

Scoffing, Wilbur turned away. “Whatever you say, Phil. I’m going to bed.”

“Goodnight, Wilbur.” Phil only hesitated for a second. “I love you.”

Wilbur didn’t respond, and ignored the tears pricking his eyes.

* * *

When Phil rose the next morning, there were two new people sitting around in the ravine. The fox he’d seen when he’d first spawned and a man with a crown and black shades. They smiled warmly at him, conversing with Techno and Tommy.

“Have you seen Wilbur?” Phil asked, hoping and praying he hadn’t gone to the cells.

Techno shook his head. “He said he was going mining, but I’m not sure. He wanted to get out as soon as possible.” Phil quirked an eyebrow in question. “Eret betrayed them in the first war apparently, and Fundy’s, Wil’s unofficially adopted kid, been in Manberg since the election,” he elaborated. “I’m telling you, the guy doesn’t trust anyone anymore.”

Eret shifted uncomfortably. “Uh, hey. I’m Eret. You must be Phil.”

Phil clasped his hand and shook it warmly, smiling at him. “I am. It’s good to meet you. And Fundy too! I guess you’re my unofficial nephew.”

Tommy giggled. “He’s my nephew too.”

“Watch it short-stack,” Fundy mumbled good-naturedly.

Everyone collectively lost it at the scandalised expression Tommy wore. “I’m _not_ short! Tubbo’s short! Not me!”

Techno pat his head. “Ok Tommy.”

“Techno!” He turned to Phil, eyes bright with anger. “Phil, you’re on my side aren’t you?”

Phil shrugged. “You _are_ shorter than I am.”

 _“I’ll literally be taller than you in a month, old man!”_ he screeched.

The yell bounced off the stone walls. The racket they were making was sure to reach Wilbur, wherever he was. Good.

Tubbo emerged from one of the many rooms, Sapnap and Skeppy in tow. The two of them looked tired and stressed, dark bags under their eyes. Sapnap had injuries that were still healing from the chase earlier. They approached quietly, and the ravine fell silent.

“Hey,” Phil greeting kindly. “Did you sleep last night?”

Sapnap sighed. “I would’ve, but the mattresses were so fucking lumpy.”

Tubbo smiled. “Well maybe if you had beat them like I suggested, this would’ve been avoided.”

Sapnap rolled his eyes. “Uhuh. Sure Tubbo. Oh, hey Eret. And Fundy. How’re you guys?”

“Alright.”

“Good.”

Skeppy nudged Techno in the ribs. “Don’t act like you don’t know me anymore.”

Techno shrugged. “I’ve never met this man in my life,” he informed the others.

“Techno!” Sapnap guffawed. The laugh was contagious and the others joined in. “Remember everything we’ve went through together? The pranks, the fun times, the deaths?”

He blinked in confusion. “All I remember is me kicking your ass multiple times. Like, so many I can’t even count.”

Skeppy blanched. “Fuck you.”

A resounding chorus of ‘ooos’ followed that statement. “Damn Skeppy, you really don’t have to go at him like that,” Sapnap teased.

“Haha, funny, you want me to tell them about the feathers incident—mmph!” Sapnap slapped his hand over Skeppy’s mouth as soon as those words left it.

“Absolutely not,” he hissed. “Or I’ll tell about the cactus thing.”

Their communicators beeped all of a sudden. It was the beep that signified a verbal message being sent by Schlatt.

“Uh, is this thing working?” The president’s voice was tinny and scratchy, but it was unmistakably him. “Oh, good, it’s working. Well, hello there! Good morning to all of you traitors out there.” Sapnap shuddered. “Well, I got a special announcement to make here, with my vice president. I’m holding a very special meeting. A get-together if you will. At the podium, as usual. But today, I’m inviting all of you traitors to come along with me. Actually, no, scratch that. You have no choice in the matter unless you wanna see someone dear to you get hurt. Maybe we can work on a peace treaty. A deal. Who knows? We could end up being good friends. Oh, and if a Philza comes along, he will be shot on sight. That is a threat. Good day everyone. See you there, one o’clock sharp.”

The message ended with another long bleep.

“Well,” Techno said, breaking the horrified silence that fell over everyone, “guess we have plans today after all.”

* * *

George could spot the group coming from ages away. How did it feel, being stuck in enemy territory, in a place they used to call home? He saw Sapnap with them, who tried to catch his eye. George ignored him. Best to keep him out of danger. George’s eyes flitted to Schlatt, to the cage where Niki was, to Bad, sleeping behind the stage, looking awful.

Niki smiled at him softly. _I trust you,_ her eyes said. George wanted to open the cage, let her out. He wanted to shield Bad and protect him from any more harm. George wanted to tell her that trusting him was a shaky deal, that immunity was not guaranteed in the slightest.

But he remembered Niki’s eyes, the fire that burnt bright in them, the fearlessness that overshadowed the terror. She was ready for anything.

On his person, George had tucked an extra set of armour and a netherite sword for her for when the time arose. She was ready and he would need to be as well. 

And Phil wasn’t among the crowd either. 

Schlatt stood at the podium, smiling jovially and waving his hands at everyone who’d come. “Sit down, sit down. Make yourselves comfortable.” They did, murmuring among themselves. The hatred in Wilbur’s eyes was not concealed in any way. “Welcome to this gathering of mine. I know it’s a very strange for me to do this. Very out of the blue. But, uh, due to recent events, I figured it would be good to do this now.”

“You said that there was someone ‘dear to us’ that would get hurt.” That was Wilbur, who looked almost bored.

Schlatt smiled unpleasantly. “Quackity!” he called.

A mechanism went off, cogs clicking and running, redstone torches lighting up. A cage of iron was haul up from the side of the stage. In the cage was Niki.

Tommy let out a strangled cry, shooting upright in his chair. Wilbur’s mouth dropped open and Eret stood up, taking a step forward. He stopped right in his tracks when Quackity aimed his crossbow at her.

“Let her go, Schlatt. Don’t bring her into this.” Wilbur’s voice was calm, cold even.

Schlatt didn’t drop his smile. “I will do whatever I please. George. Our next guest.”

An audible gasp left Skeppy’s mouth as Bad was dragged out, broken and battered, barely awake. His hood was back, casting light on a face that hadn’t seen any kindness for a long time.

George was trying to be gentle, to not aggravate his wounds further. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” he whispered to Bad before facing the audience. Hopefully, Bad would understand.

“Now, the reason I have brought you all out here, is for you to make a decision. But first, a little fun, eh?” Schlatt gestured to his prisoners. “Now, to deter further defecting, I want to keep one of you as an example. But I’m torn, honestly. Should it be Mr BadBoyHalo over here? Or what about Ms Nihachu? Even better,” he said as a glint entered his eyes, “what about Skeppy?”

Tubbo squeezed Tommy’s hand subconsciously. Tommy squeezed back, biting his lip as he looked up at Wilbur. Wilbur looked fine with the proceedings. Sapnap and Skeppy, on the other hand, looked close to throwing up.

George felt confusion enter his mind. This wasn’t at all what they discussed. They were to let the hostages go under the peace treaty. No blood was to be shed.

“What is the meaning of this, Schlatt?” Techno asked in a measured tone.

The president cackled. A horrible, scratchy laugh that chilled Tommy’s very bones. “I want all of you under my thumb. And to do that, it seems some people need to learn their lesson. Sapnap.” All eyes snapped on the kid, who looked up at Schlatt in shock. “You get to choose who comes with me, and who gets set free. As a reward for running away.”

George’s heart stopped in his chest. “This isn’t the plan, Schlatt,” he hissed, grabbing his wrist and tugging it harshly.

Schlatt shook his head. “No. It’s better. Choose, Sapnap. Or I’ll kill these two right now. And believe me, I won’t make it fast.”

“Schlatt!” George said, voice rising. “Don’t do this!”

Wrenching his hand out of George’s grip, Schlatt practically growled at him. “Fuck off, George. I’m president, not you. Now unless you’re a traitor as well, sit your ass down and shut the fuck up!”

So George stepped back, hands shaking as he typed a message into his communicator.

 **_You whisper to Dream:_ ** _Wjere arr you? We need ypu_

That was in a long line of messages already sent. None of which had been replied to. Bad shifted under his grip. “Sapnap?” he whispered.

“It’s alright Bad,” George mumbled, heart seizing at the look of absolute horror on his friend’s face.

Looking ready to bolt, Sapnap swallowed, gaze shifting from Bad, to Skeppy, to Niki and back again. The area was deadly silent. “Can I-can I volunteer myself?” he asked in a small voice. George nearly dropped Bad altogether.

Schlatt, surprised by the turn of events, stroked his chin, pretending to think about it. “Well, depends on how much you’re willing to pay to let these guys go.”

“How much do you want?” Desperation coloured his tone. George felt his breathing pick up.

Schlatt smiled. “How about everything you know about Dream and George?”

“ _Schlatt_!” George hollered, standing straighter. “Don’t fucking do this! You knew the plan before and defecting from it will only bring your downfall!”

“I will do what I want, George! Now do you want an arrow through your head, or do you wanna live?”

“I want you to lay off him and stick to what we’ve already got!” he snapped. George’s grasp on Bad had become protective. Bad’s fingers found his own and squeezed briefly.

The president cackled. “Traitors get what’s coming for them. Mr Sappitus,” (the use of the nickname made George’s blood boil) “now gets to betray any one of his friends. Isn’t that exciting?”

Looking ready to pass out, Sapnap was not inclined to agree. “I don’t know that much about them,” he croaked. “Please just let them go.”

“This isn’t fair on him!” Techno yelled out, surprising himself. The people around him nodded in agreement. “Quit your mind games!”

Eret scowled. “Come down here and settle this properly! Stop staking peoples’ lives.”

Instead of replying, Schlatt held his crossbow up at Niki. Everyone froze. “Make a decision,” he sang, ignoring everything. “Or she gets a face full of arrows tipped with poison.” Niki stared the bow down calmly, not even a hint of fear on her face.

Wilbur glanced back at Sapnap. “Don’t you fucking dare give Niki up,” he muttered, words like poison, “or I’ll rip your friend’s throat out.”

And Sapnap made a decision.

He leapt up from his seat and pearled forward before anyone could even think about stopping him, starting to climb up to the podium. Schlatt turned his crossbow on him instead, and shot. George’s yell of warning came too late. The arrow went right through his stomach. He could only watch as Sapnap crumpled to the ground with an agonised cry.

George had never wanted to bolt more in his life.

 **_You whisper to Dream:_ ** _Tgey got Sapnap tou prick. SHPW UP FORR FUCKS SAKRE_

“What the fuck did you just do?” George asked breathlessly.

Schlatt shrugged. “We’ll see.” He motioned for George to come forward. Bad’s gaze, cloudy and unfocused, settled on the man in front of him with a small smile.

“Is this it then?” he slurred softly.

Schlatt beamed at him. “You’re a smart one, eh? I bet your boyfriend’ll enjoy watching you get cut up into little bits.”

George’s grip on Bad tightened. “Absolutely not!” he said shrilly. “I will not let you do that!”

“George, you’re really getting on my nerves right now. Quackity.”

“Don’t you _dare,”_ George snarled. Drawing his sword. Looking nervous, Quackity tried to approach him, leaving an opening at the cage. Niki smiled at him serenely and George took his chance. Unsheathing the sword, he took a chance and threw it right at Niki. It clattered onto the floor of her cage and she picked it up, swinging it experimentally.

“Thank you, George.” Techno let out a monotone whoop as she cut through the lock in one fell swoop, a metallic clang that bounced off every wall. The door was kicked open and the sword was pointed right at Schlatt’s chest. “Move, and you won’t have a heart anymore.”

The rest of them were standing. George felt a burst of pride at himself, at everyone pointing their weapons at a dictator. Even Quackity had lowered his crossbow, looking very conflicted. George scanned the skies. The signal was whenever things were starting to properly escalate.

Surely, he hadn’t forgotten—

“JSchlatt! I want to duel over your claim to this country!” a voice thundered.

A man with great, buzzing insect wings blocked out the sun. A shadow was cast over him. No one could properly see this man, with his glimmering iron axe and his billowing robe and that _stupid fucking bucket hat—_

“Phil!” Tommy cried, waving his hands madly, dropping his sword.

Techno stood up and let out a monotone whoop, punching the air with his fist tiredly. Phil landed gracefully on the podium, beaming widely, his eyes two chips of ice. Schlatt turned his bow on him, releasing an arrow without a word.

Phil, quicker than a flash, whipped out a shield and deflected it. “So you’re the president, aren’t you?”

“I am,” Schlatt confirmed, reloading. The air was thick, tangible with tension. “And you’re the guy I specifically told not to come in. But what did you do? You came in.”

“I did. Now, about what I just said.”

“Ah yes. Duelling.” Schlatt pursed his lips. “Well, it’s a creative kind of execution, but it should do. Quackity! Kill this man.”

“No,” Phil said. George, who’d sat Bad down carefully, was holding Quackity back. “This is your battle to be fought. Not his.”

“George?” Schlatt’s voice had lost its confidence.

“You heard the man. I’ll not fight any more of your battles for you. You lost my respect long ago.”

Schlatt tried to back away, protesting, but stopped short when Niki pointed her sword at his throat. George was right behind him, just as threatening. “Do it, Schlatt,” she said softly.

Phil raised his axe and pointed it at Schlatt. “No armour. Whatever weapon you want.” He tried not to smile when Schlatt pulled out a netherite sword.

“Prepare to lose you flying bastard.”

Tubbo leaned in close to Tommy. “What if he loses?” he asked fearfully. “Why couldn’t Techno duel him instead?”

Techno smiled and pat his head before Tommy could answer. “Who d’ya think taught me how to fight?”

Realisation flickered across Tubbo’s face. “Oh!” But it was only when he glanced up at the podium that his worries completely abated.

Phil could fly physically, yes, but he wasn’t using his wings to fly around the attacks Schlatt threw his way. He was light on his feet, ducking and weaving, lightning fast as he dodged constantly. Techno saw his strategy the moment he started his dance. Schlatt might’ve been a genius in politics, but battlefield tactics were not his forte.

Already, he was showing signs of wear, huffing to himself as he hefted the sword, heavy compared to Phil’s axe. “Attack me you idiot!” he panted.

Phil smiled calmly. “Alright,” he said, leaping forward and swinging right at Schlatt’s chest. He anticipated the block with the sword, locking him in place. He pulled downward, breaking contact and swung with the butt of the handle. He caught Schlatt in the jaw, knocking him back a few paces. Grunting, he took up a defensive position, running forward again. His sword was set to skewer Phil through the stomach.

Phil raised his axe and slammed the blade down on the sword, taking a hand off to punch his opponent in the face.

“Fuck yeah Phil!” Tommy screeched, jumping up and down. Techno wore a rare grin and even Wilbur was smirking slightly.

Phil had no time to look over at his brothers, dodging a second too late. The sword caught on the edge of his cloak and ripped it. _No more slipups_ , he promised himself. His wings fluttered in readiness, but he refused to use them. Schlatt deserved a clean fight, and he didn’t want any kind of advantage to bite him in the ass later.

“You’re pretty good,” Schlatt muttered.

Phil smiled. “You’re okay.”

Apparently enraged, Schlatt descended on him with a burst of energy. Stumbling back a few steps, Phil found himself get dangerously close to the edge. His elytra fluttered to life but he willed them to deaden, just for the moment.

With the flat side of the axe blade, he smacked Schlatt in the side of his head, knocking him aside with all his might and backing away from the edge. Disorientated, the president blinked to regain his surroundings, barely registering Phil running up, leaping and slamming the back of his axe down on his head.

Schlatt fell to the floor, eyes hazy, his sword laying a few feet away, useless. Phil’s blade pressed against his chest. Distantly, he heard cheering.

“Surrender.”

Schlatt gave him a gurgling laugh. “I’ll be back,” he said hoarsely.

“No you won’t,” said a new voice. Looking up, he saw George, stone-faced as usual. He took out a little scroll wrapped in green ribbon from his pocket and unrolled it, tossing it into Schlatt’s hands. He squinted at the parchment, which only had a single, crudely drawn, picture on it.

A slime with a half-eaten stick in its mouth.

Schlatt stopped breathing. “No,” he whispered.

“Yes.” George smiled widely. “Phil and I contacted them as soon as I gave him access to this server around a week ago. They’ll be stopping by tomorrow to pick you up.” He laughed a little. “They’re _very_ excited to see you.”

“You-you fucking psychopaths! Don’t you dare!” He tried pulling himself up but stopped short when the axe started digging into his chest.

“You don’t have a choice,” George said icily. “I’ll be escorting you to the dungeons. You’re lucky I’m not in the mood to get revenge for Bad.”

Schlatt shivered. “Wait! Wait, please. I’ll be good! I promise I won’t hurt anyone again! You can’t do this to me!”

“Oh, but we will.”

Niki gently took Phil’s wrist and held it up in triumph in front of the crowd. “Three cheers for the victor!”

Tommy hugged Tubbo and Techno tightly, laughing hysterically. He wasn’t sure if the tears on his face were from relief or the helpless mirth that wracked his whole body. “We did it!” he screamed, over and over. Tubbo cheered in his own, softer way, sharing Tommy’s excitement and practically vibrating with happiness. Techno chuckled, eyes light and posture relaxed for the first time in many nights.

And Wilbur.

Wilbur wasn’t sure what to feel. Relief? Did he even want L’Manberg back? There was a pit in his stomach. What was there left to fight for if Phil had won this battle?

Techno put a hand on his shoulder. “Go talk to him,” he said gruffly. “You’ve got a few people to apologise to.”

Wilbur nodded. “Thank you, Techno. For…everything.”

They smiled at each other. Wilbur was so tired.

“You should probably destroy the bombs,” Techno advised.

“Oh shit, yeah. I’ll do that tonight.” He turned his attention onto the podium, where Schlatt was being dragged away by Quackity and George. Eret and Fundy were running ahead to prepare the cell and Niki was kneeling by Bad. She had a healing potion in hand.

Schlatt giggled, a little deranged, a little unhinged as George was trying to force him down the steps at the back, not wanting to take the water route. “What?” George snapped. Something felt distinctly off about this situation.

“A good politician always has a backup plan.”

The events played out in slow motion. Schlatt jerked his head backwards and hit Quackity square in the nose with his skull, making him yelp in pain and let go. Schlatt took out a pickaxe and broke the blackstone under his feet. George registered the TNT, registered the flint and steel, registered Schlatt lighting it, registered the hiss, like a creeper’s.

His body did not move.

Someone was screaming at him. George could only watch in horror as Schlatt leapt off the platform. He remembered the rumour of there being TNT hidden around Manberg.

He didn’t think the rumour was true.

Someone grabbed his hand and wrenched him forward. His feet tripped over a ledge and kicked uselessly in open air, with nothing underneath him to act as support. Heat flared behind him. His eyes squeezed shut and he gasped at icy cold that originated from his legs and spread upward quickly. Water. A hand pulled him under.

The explosion was muffled, under the soft waves. The sky brightened for a second as a searing light filled his vision. The water splashed and rocked, and George’s body was thrown around with its rhythm. He was knocked into a hard surface headfirst and his world spun. Debris dropped into the water around him, glass shards as deadly as Bad’s knives. Only one hit their mark in his forearm. He wrenched it out, however, screaming into his teeth as he did.

Resurfacing, he looked to the remains of the podium, a pile of blackstone and concrete now alight. He felt nauseous in the pink water, flavoured with his blood, the contents of his stomach threatening to make a reappearance. “Phil?” he yelled out.

“Up here!” George’s eyes zeroed in on a figure high above the ground with dead weight in his arms. Phil was carrying Bad, somehow managing to stay upright. He’d been lucky. Both of them had.

George checked his communicator.

**_KarlJacobs was blown up by JSchlatt_ **

**_Quackity was blown up by JSchlatt_ **

He dragged himself out of the water, head pounding against his skull. There was rubble all around him. Chairs were upturned, trees had been uprooted and nearby buildings were reduced to ash. Through his double-vision, he counted everyone still stuck in the center, either knocked out or slowly gathering their bearings and rising unsteadily to their feet. Techno, Wilbur, Skeppy, Eret.

The others lay scattered around. Tubbo bled from a head wound. Tommy looked unscathed, but his breathing was soft and shallow. Fundy’s leg was trapped under a slab of rock which Skeppy was trying to upturn with Eret’s help.

Niki picked up Quackity’s things, limping slightly. A shard of glass must’ve cut her leg on the way down. Blood stained her clothes and her expression was terse. Phil alighted onto a part of the ground with only a little bit of wreckage, cradling Bad in his arms. “Shit,” he whispered.

Wilbur fell to his knees, touching his forehead to the ground with a soft groan. Techno was leaning heavily on his sword, a burn visible on his torso. No one knew where Schlatt was.

“Any beds free anywhere?” Phil croaked.

Niki nodded numbly, eyes slightly unfocused. “We should get a medbay ready.”

George stood still, trying to sort through his addled thoughts one by one. Something niggling at the back of his mind. Something important. He was sure of it.

His eyes roamed the scorched landscape and flickered to his communicator. No more deaths recorded since the explosion. Where Schlatt had gone to, he had no clue. What Dream would say to all of this, he didn’t know either. But George knew exactly what he was going to say to Dream. About the war, Schlatt, the help he didn’t receive and Sapnap would be right—

“ _Sapnap!”_ he screamed, stomach lurching with anxiety. The yell frightened Phil enough to make him jump into the air. George’s eyes fixated on where he’d last seen him and felt his stomach drop down to his feet.

All he saw was a pile of rubble.

He did the only thing he could and began to dig through it, pushing apart concrete and stone with his bare hands. Adrenaline kept the pain at bay, but he felt his own blood slicking his fingers from the cut in his arm. “Sapnap!” he yelled into the stone.

No response.

Another pair of hands joined him. The shine of diamond deadened by black soot and ash. Skeppy’s face was set in hard determination as he dug with George. Green sleeves, Phil, came in soon after. Then, Techno’s pink skin, and Eret’s a little while later. Niki, with her pastel sleeves completely black.

And finally, Wilbur, beanie nowhere to be found, coat stained in blood, dirtying his hands for the sake of his enemy’s friend.

The seconds crept by in terse silence. It took all of them to move the big pieces, and they had to pair up for the smaller ones. But slowly, carefully, they made a decent dent in the pile before a weak groan caught everyone’s attention. George’s heart leapt to his throat. “Keep going,” Techno ordered, catching everyone faltering.

They worked even quicker, still as gentle as they possibly could. “Sapnap?” George called at random intervals. Each time earned some kind of noise. A groan, a huff, a wheeze, the soft murmur of George’s name, a pained little sob. “It’s okay, you’ll be okay.”

Finally, they removed the stone slab covering Sapnap. George choked at the sight of his friend, bloodied and mangled, holding onto life by a single thread. “Shit,” Eret muttered, pushing another concrete off his torso. “Fuck.”

Realisation hit George like an anvil. There was too much blood, too much gore. George could see bone poking out of his arms, bent completely at the wrong angle. His eyes were fluttered shut and his chest wasn’t rising and falling fast enough, or deep enough. The dam broke and tears spilled over.

Death might not be permanent but the effects it had were.

“Let’s get him out of this hole,” Phil suggested quietly. He leaned over, grabbing Sapnap under his arms while Techno grabbed his legs and carefully, oh so carefully, they lifted him out of the hole to lay him on the ground, in the open and under the midday sun. Sapnap’s breathing weakened further and his arms and legs twitched in agony as he let out another pitiful sob.

George sat next to him, taking his hand, red with drying blood, and pressed it to his forehead. Sapnap didn’t squeeze it back, too exhausted, too injured, too close to death. The arrowhead was still in his stomach, the shaft having broken off. “It’s okay, Sappitus,” he forced out. “Just-just hold on. It’s okay.

“George?” He turned to Eret. “Maybe it’s best to, fuck…put him out of his misery?” He winced at his wording, but George understood. He’s been suffering too long. There was no coming back from something like this.

“I’ll do it,” he whispered shakily. Phil pat his shoulder once. Skeppy gave him a pained half-smile. George glanced down at Sapnap. “Love you,” he breathed through the lump in his throat. He stood up and raised his sword, aiming for a swift, kind death.

**_Sapnap was slain by GeorgeNotFound_ **

“Come on.” Skeppy wrapped his arm around George’s shoulders. “We need to get everyone fixed up.”

George wiped his tears and swallowed thickly. “Let’s go, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> schlatt is most definitely terrified of the slime man no i do not take constructive criticism


	4. A little hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovery in the hour, week and months after the explosion.
> 
> Or alternatively: Niki is is a goddess, Techno just wants to farm potatoes, Tubbo likes Tommy and bees, Tommy likes Tubbo, Wilbur is having a crisis, Phil is a good older brother, Schlatt does not want to go with the weird slime man, Bad is getting better, Skeppy is finally not anxious, George is tired and pissed, Sapnap just wants his friends to be friends again and Dream tries to figure out what the fuck happened while he was away.

An hour after the explosion, Phil wasn’t sure what to do.

The dead (which was just Quackity and Karl) had walked back, looking shaky and unstable, a little disorientated, but well enough to work. And work they did, moving rubble and debris away from an open area in the middle which Niki had claimed to use as a place to heal people onsite.

Phil had laid Bad down gently next to her, feeling his stomach rolling at the blood that stained his hands and clothes. None of it was his, as far as he could tell. Niki gave him a tired smile of thanks as she wrapped her own leg as quickly as she could. She had no healing potions on her, sending Quackity to find as many as he could around the country. Karl was trying to drag/carry the injured toward her with varying levels of success.

Techno sat down, unresisting as Niki prodded the burn in his side. He winced slightly during the examination but didn’t voice his discomfort, sighing a little in relief when Niki washed it with cold water and wrapped it back up. She pushed a bottle into his hand. The watermelon-y scent of healing filled the air. “Drink it all. We’ve plenty more.”

“Thank you,” he said gruffly, uncorking the bottle.

Instead of replying, Niki went straight to the next patient (Tubbo, lying unconscious and still bleeding), so Phil looked away. He couldn’t afford to break down now.

George was still staring at where Sapnap had just been, the bloodstains that hadn’t disappeared with the body. Phil stood in front of him. “George.”

“Huh?”

“Come on. We’ve got a lot to do now.” Phil jerked his chin toward the damage, the blackstone that littered the streets. George lifted up his goggles, wiping at his face. He smeared black soot over his nose. “He’ll be alright. But we have to finish this now.”

“Right.” With a determined scowl, George glanced at the rubble being moved into neat piles around the perimeter. “I’ll get on that.”

“Take Eret.” Phil knew that pairing George with Wilbur could only be disastrous, considering those bombs were planted by him. “Wait, you’re hurt.”

“I’ll be fine.”

And that was that. Phil watched his retreating back with a little apprehension. He’d never done any of this before, finding that governing himself in a lonely world was a far cry from ordering around a group of confused, injured adults (and kids) after a disaster.

But he needed to try, damn it.

Quackity was dumping the potions he’d gathered at Niki’s feet. There were twenty or so bottles, which was more than enough. Niki made Techno drink another one and emptied two each into Tommy and Tubbo’s mouths.

Fundy, now unpinned and awake, was carried by Skeppy to the Niki, teeth grinding together in pain. His leg was a mess, bent strangely and bleeding profusely. She frowned at it as he set him down, examining the limb without touching. “I’ll need to set it.” Fundy nodded, gripping his shirt in an iron fist. He shuddered when her fingers made contact with his leg. “Skeppy, I need you to hold him down.”

“Sorry,” Skeppy muttered, pushing Fundy’s wrists and other leg to the ground. He just shook his head.

“Don’t apologise.”

Niki grabbed the leg gently, and Fundy spasmed with a pained whimper. “Three, two—”

Fundy _screamed_ as Niki jerked the leg back into position and began wrapping it up. “You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” Skeppy chanted, letting go and rocking him back and forth as he gasped, tears trailing down his cheeks. Niki passed Skeppy a healing potion.

“Give it to him.” Fundy opened his mouth for the drink, relaxing as the affects began to hit. The expression of pain leeched from his face and he blinked, feeling so, so tired. “You did really well, Fundy.”

Wilbur had turned away, glancing over at Phil. He smiled in reassurance that he didn’t feel, before disappearing into a mound of debris. Phil sighed, walking over to Niki. “How are they going?”

She hummed, standing up with a wince. “Good enough. They’ll be okay. I-we gotta move them somewhere safer. Schlatt escaped, didn’t he?” Phil nodded once, shame burning in his gut. “They’re still in danger. I’m not risking it.”

“I’ll help you with that. I’m sure there’s a bunker somewhere here.” He frowned. “I’ll ask around. Oh, and Niki?”

“Hm?”

Phil smiled at her warmly. “You’re doing amazingly.”

She laughed it off, but Phil caught the sparkle in her eyes, the shine that overpowered the deadness.

Phil’s eyes roamed over the scene. Tommy and Tubbo, lying next to each other and curling into each other’s’ warmth, Fundy beginning to nod off, no longer in pain, Skeppy holding Bad’s hand with pure relief on his face and Techno, Wilbur and George working together in silent concentration to clean the place up and allowed himself to feel hopeful.

* * *

A day after the explosion, Eret and Karl found Schlatt hiding out in the woods. They knocked him unconscious before he could put up a fight and dragged him back to L’Manberg and threw him swiftly into the dungeon where he could cause no harm.

Wilbur had spent the night finding and collecting all of the TNT he’d set up and promptly destroying it. Sapnap still hadn’t woken up from respawn. George didn’t leave his side.

Phil was informally elected to be leader in Schlatt’s absence. No one really minded, considering he threw himself into recovery and clean up with fervour no one else had the energy for. His sights weren’t set far into the future. Only the to the next few weeks, until they could decide on some kind of system. His hopes were on healing the broken and getting Schlatt out of the land.

That wish came true very soon.

Phil introduced a man with light brown hair and green eyes behind square glasses. George could see golden tattoos peeking out underneath his neon green shirt. “Everyone, this is Slime. He’ll be taking Schlatt away.”

“Me and him, we _goat_ way back.” George blinked in disbelief. The first thing he heard from the guy was a fucking _pun._

Phil smiled. “You ready to see him?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

They descended the steps to the dungeon together. “What are you going to do with him?” George asked.

Slime shrugged. “We’re probably just gonna let him live with us. He can’t leave without admin permission, and the guy can’t hack either.”

George scoffed. “You’re going to let this man go free?”

“I never said that. He won’t be free necessarily. We’ll have watch schedules and trackers and compasses. He’s not going near the weapons or the TNT, lemme tell ya.”

“Right. And this will…work?”

Slime smiled at him lopsidedly. “Mostly worked last time. He’ll bitch and moan about it, but I think the guy secretly likes the life. Plus, we get more work done when he’s around. It’s a win-win.”

George blinked. “He literally tried to blow us all up when we threatened to bring you guys into this.”

“Dramatics.”

Schlatt certainly wasn’t happy to see Slime. “You,” he snarled. “Fuck you, I’m not coming!”

Slime’s face lit up. “Good to see you too buddy! How have _hoof_ been?”

“Shut up!”

George wrestled Schlatt’s arms around his back and slapped on metal cuffs, dropping the key in Slime’s palm. “Have fun with him, I guess.”

Slime grabbed Schlatt’s arm with a wide grin. “Oh we will. The best of times, eh?” His eyes glanced over the bandages and the tired faces and softened. “You won’t have to see him again. I’ll make sure of it. And if you need any help, you know who to call.”

Phil clapped his shoulder. “We’ll keep it in mind. Goodbye.”

“Time to _goat,_ Schlatt!” Schlatt let out a tortured yell. George could tell how hard Phil was trying to hold it together. He just sighed. “Bye!”

And he was gone, taking the tyrant with him.

* * *

Two days after the explosion, Bad woke up.

“Mm, hey Geppy,” Bad mumbled after finally opening his eyes. “Good to see you.”

Skeppy giggled helplessly, having not left the bedside for most of those hours. “What did they do to you?” he asked brokenly, glancing at all of the bandages.

Bad smiled. “Nothing I can’t handle you muffin.”

Pushing the hair from Bad’s face, Skeppy cradled his hand, clasping it like a lifeline. Niki was silent as she checked him over, only motioning for Skeppy to lift Bad’s head up so that she could pour the potion down his throat. Her injuries were healed quickly with a potion and a golden apple. The effect was instantaneous, and his muscles relaxed as the potion hit his stomach.

“He’ll be okay, right?”

Niki smiled wearily. “He will. But he’ll be on bed rest for a long time.”

Skeppy nodded quickly. “I’ve got it handled. Anything else?”

“Stock up on healing potions, change his bandages every day, make sure he doesn’t exert himself. The usual.” She touched his arm gently. “He’ll be right as rain eventually.”

Skeppy beamed at her, tears trailing in rivulets down his cheeks. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

She left to tend to Tubbo, who’d been reading for most of his time in bed. Techno had brought him books on bees and plants from the library which Phil read out to him most of the time whenever he passed by. Tommy filled in the role when he couldn’t, restless like always, to leave the bed he was confined to. Fundy drew in a notebook that Wilbur had given to him. He’d be allowed out sooner than Tommy, a fact that he liked to boast about whenever possible if only to get on Tommy’s nerves.

The blackstone and concrete was cleared away completely. The buildings around were repaired, leaving an empty space as a reminder of the horrors that had occurred only a little while ago.

No one really wanted to rebuild the podium.

Skeppy shivered every time he passed by, not _wanting_ to remember.

Bad pulled him out of his daydreams, however, with a little shake. “Skeppy? What’s wrong?”

Skeppy blinked and paused, looking around. No Schlatt, no war and Bad was with him again. So he smiled and shook his head quickly. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m glad you’re here,” he whispered with a swift hug.

“So am I, you muffinhead.”

* * *

Three days after the explosion, a man with a lime green hoodie and a white mask wandered into the country. There was only one person there to greet him, and Tubbo had half a mind to flee as soon as he saw him.

“Tubbo!” he called, running over. The mask was firmly fixed on his face as usual, a little cracked from mob encounters but he looked well.

“Hey Dream,” he greeted quietly. “Where have you—”

“Why are you here?” Dream demanded. “You’ve been exiled, haven’t you? What’s with the bandage?” He pointed at he gauze wrapped around his head.

Tubbo rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “I—Schlatt’s gone, Dream. Tommy and Wilbur and I, we’ve come home,” he mumbled.

“Schlatt’s—what the _fuck_ did I miss?”

“A lot, actually. Uh, there was an explosion. And people from another server came to take Schlatt away. Phil duelled—Phil joined as well by the way, and he duelled Schlatt and George was secretly on our side all along and Sapnap still hasn’t woken up and Bad was really hurt and—”

Dream cut off the rambling with a raised hand, looking completely befuddled. “I— _what?”_

So Tubbo grabbed his sleeve and dragged him through the streets of L’Manberg, all the way to their makeshift medbay. He opened the door gently, signalling Dream to be quiet as they tip-toed in. Dream’s eyebrows shock up in shock. Fundy was drawing and looked up briefly, locking eyes with Dream before quickly glancing away.

He saw Bad, curled up underneath his sheets, Skeppy huddled with him. He saw Tommy, snoring softly, books piled by his bedside. And then he saw George, knocked out cold with his head resting in his arms, leaning forward onto Sapnap’s bed. And Sapnap…well, outwardly he was pale and sickly but not injured otherwise. Did he respawn?

Tubbo went around and gently shook George’s shoulder. “Wakey wakey!”

George startled awake, flipping on his goggles and whipping around before his gaze settled on Tubbo. “Oh. Hey Tubbo.” Stretching, he looked down at Sapnap, frown tugging at his lips. “What time is it?”

“Uh. Noon.”

“Right. Did Phil call?”

Tubbo shook his head. “Someone else.” He pointed at Dream.

When George saw him, Dream smiled at him warmly, though he felt it begin to falter when George didn’t smile back. Instead, he squinted at him and stood up. Dream noticed bandages along his arm, the pale cheeks, the shadows under his eyes. “Hey George! What’s going on?” he tried.

George’s eyes hardened but he stayed silent, striding forward. Dream took a small step back. “Where were you?” His tone was filled with quiet rage.

Dream scratched the back of his head, holding up his bag filled with ores. “Mining trip. I, uh, got lost.”

George visibly swallowed. “Where was your communicator?”

“I-I forgot it.” He nodded, coming closer. “Realised just after I set out. George—” Dream cut himself off when George swung his fist at his jaw. The punch landed and sent Dream backwards into the wall. “What the _fuck!_ ”

George’s breathing was shaky and his hands trembled. “Fuck you,” he spat. His voice trembled, his hands shook. Dream looked absolutely stunned, pressed against the wall. His mask was askew. “That’s what I have to say to you. _Fuck you_. You left us _alone_ with that fucking monster. You didn’t tell _anyone_ you were gone, and when we needed you most, where were you?” He swallowed hard. “Check your communicator for the story. And get out of my fucking sight.”

Tears made their way down George’s cheeks as the stress and grief from the last four days caught up to him. Dream backed out quickly, a look of utter bewilderment and hurt on his face.

George turned on his heel and walked back to his seat, dropping his head in his hands.

“Are you okay, George?” Tubbo asked meekly.

George shook his head, scrubbing at his face furiously. “We both fucked up. So badly.”

Tubbo hummed. “He’ll wake up.”

“It’s not just that. What’s it going to be like now between us all. We’ve been fighting for so long.” He glanced up at the kid. “You’re so good Tubbo. But the rest of us aren’t innocent.” He laughed, short and mirthless. “I don’t think I’d know what to do if another war broke out.”

“Um.” Tubbo walked around the bed and sat on the edge gingerly. “I don’t think it’s hopeless. To be fair, the only time war starts is when people really try to get on our bad sides. And besides, Phil would never let that happen.”

“I hope you’re right Tubbo.” George gave him a tired smile.

“I hope I’m right too.”

(Dream went to bed with two new bruises on his face. One from George, and one from Phil for stealing Tommy’s disks. Frankly, he was confused as hell, because he sure as fuck didn’t invite Phil onto the server.

* * *

Four days after the explosion, Sapnap woke up.

He stirred slowly, eyelids feeling heavy, like weights were attached to them and his throat and tongue felt sandpaper dry. The room he was in was completely empty. Memories, sharp and jagged and filled with blood and pain and noise tried to bleed through the fog that filled his skull.

He squirmed in the blankets, wincing at the phantom pain everywhere, trying to claw his way up to a sitting position. Exhaustion had fled him completely as soon as he began remembering, but now, he wanted answers.

He was surprised he wasn’t in prison. But then again, this could be a mind game Schlatt was playing. He didn’t want to risk it.

Sapnap swung his legs out of bed, wincing when his bare feet touched the cold stone floor. Why wasn’t it carpeted?

Wishing he had something to lean on, Sapnap carefully shifted his weight onto his hands braced against the bed as he stood shakily, gasping when his knees buckled underneath his weight. His throat burned, sending him into a coughing fit that wracked his whole body. He held onto the bed frame for dear life during the convulsions as he slid down to the ground, tears stinging his eyes.

“Hel-lp,” he gasped, laying his forehead on the cool wood. “Geor—” He started coughing again and his arm curled around his abdomen, waiting for it to abate through gritted teeth. “ _George_ ,” he whispered desperately, choking back his cries. “Help.”

The third fit came with a round of dry sobbing as he felt his throat tear itself apart. He gave up on help, curling up around himself as he shook helplessly.

Warm arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders and rubbed at his back. Sapnap had the urge to fight them off, to kick and scream for help because this person was not George. But instead, he melted into the touch, trying to catch the soft words from the voice he knew.

“There we go, Panda. Can you open your eyes for me? That’s it.” The voice was soothing, but Sapnap couldn’t quite match it to a face. But he knew, somehow, that that voice meant safety and warmth. Eyes bleary, he fixated on the offensively green fabric, dredging up a memory from somewhere far away, back when things were brighter.

_Dream._

Dream was back, and he wasn’t sure why or when he came, but he was there. Tangible and real, propping Sapnap up against him and holding something cold to his lips. A water bottle. He opened his mouth and drank down the thin dribble that reached his mouth. Dream didn’t stop until he finished the whole bottle.

The door opened gently, and another voice joined Dream’s. _George! He was okay!_ “What happened?”

“I just found him down here, I swear! He was coughing a bunch, so I gave him some water.”

“Did you give him anything else?”

“Nope.”

Cool hands stroked his hair. “Good. Help me lift him up.” Arms gripped him under his armpits and knees, hoisting him off the ground. For a few, surreal moments, his vision swooped at the sudden change, settling when he was laid back onto a soft mattress. 

“What happened, George?”

Sapnap registered the hesitation through the daze, the way the hand paused. He blinked up at George, who’s face was closed off, like a stone wall. “We can talk about this later. I’ve got to get some food in him.”

“Let me help.”

“No.”

“George—”

“My answer is final.”

“Just hear me out!”

“If you’re going to be like this, then you can leave.”

Silence. But no door opening or closing. Dream was staying. The thought comforted Sapnap, though he wished they’d just get along for once. Something was off now. There was an electric current in the air and it just felt wrong.

He hoped it would disappear in due time.

* * *

Five days after the explosion, Tommy and Tubbo were at their secret place. The bees were buzzing lazily around their picnic, which was hastily thrown together that morning.

After shooting Phil a message notifying him of their absence, they had run all the way with their basket to the flower meadow. A day of fun and relaxation, far away from Wilbur’s haunted eyes and George’s hollow smiles. Far away from the ruins of the podium and the bad memories. A meadow where they were safe and warm.

“Niki gave us chocolate pastries,” Tubbo mumbled, lying on the blanket underneath the sun. Tommy nodded, flopping down beside him, content to just watch the clouds float past.

“Did we bring anything not-sweet?”

“Nope.”

“Good.”

They grinned at each other. Tommy’s hand found itself roaming around the basket and bringing out Niki’s goodies which were neatly wrapped in brown paper. She’d started baking only a couple of days ago, but her business was already booming.

Tubbo, on the other hand, rolled over onto his stomach and picked daisies, propping himself up onto his elbows as he attempted to twist the stems together like Niki had shown him. “Niki told us to take it easy as well. Or she’d yell at us,” Tubbo said absently. Tommy rolled his eyes and watched him work, silently nibbling at the soft, flaky pastry.

“Whatcha doing?” Tommy finally asked, unable to bear the total silence.

Tubbo shrugged. “Niki taught me how to make flower crowns while I was still with…him. I haven’t tried it since then.”

“Okay.” No other words were really needed. Tommy stood up, munching away on an apple, and wandered off to the edge of the meadow where he’d constructed a series of targets made of different kinds of wood. Dark oak as the outside ring, birch on the inside ring and acacia as the bullseye.

There was a chest there, which had four bows (Tommy burnt the crossbows after he found they made Tubbo uncomfortable) in it and many arrows. They weren’t used for anything but target practise, of course, but Tommy always added one or two to the pile just in case. He picked out one of the bows, with his name carved under the handle crudely as well as five arrows.

Standing twenty blocks away, Tommy took a deep breath as he loaded the bow and squinted at the bullseye.

Inhale, exhale, _fire._

A near perfect shot, only a few centimetres off the center. Tubbo cheered for him, making a brief grin flash across Tommy’s face. He loaded his second arrow instead of replying, not wanting to break his concentration too much.

Inhale, exhale, _fire._

As the arrow shot forward, he watched it in slow motion, as the wood and metal turned into a red and white rocket. The target wasn’t there anymore. Instead, there was Tubbo, in that little prison Schlatt had constructed. The rocket slammed into him, creating an explosion of white, blue and red. So much red.

Tommy dropped the bow as if it were a hot coal and backed up as quickly as he could, turning around and sprinting to the safety of the picnic blanket.

Tubbo, holding a tangle of stems and colourful petals, looked up in concern. “What’s wrong, Tommy?” he asked as his friend stumbled to his knees and swept him up into a hug. “Oh! Alright then.” Tubbo hugged back just as fiercely. “Are you alright, Tommy?”

“Yeah.” They both ignored how his voice cracked. “I’ll be okay, Tubbo.”

In answer, Tubbo placed his crown of daisies (lopsided and misshapen and so, completely _Tubbo_ ) atop Tommy’s head with a soft smile. They laughed together as Tommy readjusted it so that it wouldn’t fall off.

“I’ll teach you how to make one of your own. First, pick a flower…oh, I like those blue ones as well!”

Ten minutes later, and the two boys were engaged in a cutthroat flower crown making competition. Both wore the other’s crown proudly. One, of white and yellow daisies. One, of deep, deep blue cornflowers. They left the third, made of poppies, on the chest with the arrows.

Who needed a country when they had each other?

* * *

Six days after the explosion, Techno started his potato farm again.

Not with the potatoes from before either. No one had the guts to go back down to that ravine after everything that had happened, so Techno was starting fresh. The seeds were from his emergency stash, stored away in the white house from that time he accidentally invaded it, and had apparently remained undisturbed for a long while.

Tubbo had automated his last farm, which had been a massive help at the time, with the whole war shenanigans going around, but now, he was just content to relax and farm to his heart’s content with no pressure from either side about winning any kind of war. No, these potatoes would be harvested by hand and replanted by those same hands!

Unless he needed help, of course. Because even Techno knew when to ask for help. It was the mark of a great warrior to be able to trust and lean on teammates.

So with a diamond hoe and an empty space of land that he had complete creative control over as well as his trusty seeds, a few buckets and the river nearby, Techno got to work that morning.

Three hours later, when the sun was at its highest point in the sky, he had ten small farms. Each had two rows of ten crops, separated by a strip of water. He settled his hoe onto his right shoulder with a satisfied little ‘hmp!’.

“Are you thirsty?”

A female voice startled Techno out of his stupor, drowsy with the burning sunlight on his skin. “Wh-who, _heeh_?”

Niki giggled, carefully making her way around the crops and toward Techno from where she’d been standing in the shade of a birch tree. She held out a water bottle to him with a gentle smile. “Here. You must be parched.”

“Oh. Uh, thank you.” Techno had resisted the urge to call her ‘ma’am’ (god forbid he make it more awkward between them) and gulped the drink down in record speed, sighing a little at the blissful cold. His side, the one that had been burnt, had started to ache again. He needed to tend to it soon. “What are you doing around here?”

She hummed, shrugging once. “I saw you working, so I brought you something to drink. Oh, and something to eat!” she added, holding out a paper bag toward him. When Techno opened it, the smell of baked potato hit him in the face. “Potato pie,” she elaborated. “I thought I’d make some anyway from the potatoes Wilbur gave me from your previous crops. They’re some of the best potatoes I’ve ever seen.” Her words were earnest and brought a wide grin to his face.

“Thank you very much.” His words sounded slightly less dead than usual, which was monumental for him. “I’m glad to know someone enjoys them.”

She laughed again, clasping her hand behind her back in the silence. “I should probably get going. I left Fundy in charge of making sure the pies in the oven don’t burn, but Fundy…well, I’ll be seeing you around!”

Techno smiled at her retreating back when a thought crossed his mind. “Hey, uh, Niki?”

“Hm?”

“How are you? After…all that, I mean.”

Something darker flashed across her eyes. She tensed slightly, like a dear ready to leap away at the sign of danger. Or maybe a predator, about to strike. “I’m not sure,” she admitted. “A lot’s happened.”

Techno nodded, leaning against his tool. “I get that.” He shuffled around on his feet, grip on the bag of food tight. “Hey, uh. Did I ever apologise to you for the festival? Because I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “That’s the past, Techno. I…we’ve all made mistakes. Some worse than others, but it’s peacetime now. We need to move forward now.” She smiled brightly. “We’re a whole country. So we have to act like one.”

And Techno reckoned that Niki would’ve probably been a better choice of leader for what was formerly L’Manberg. “You’re a good person, Niki.”

She laughed a little. “And so are you! Goodbye!”

Before he could reply, she was gone, leaving him alone with those thoughts. Because if Tubbo and Niki could forgive him, if Tommy could look him in the eye again, if Phil could hug him and call him his brother, then Techno sure as hell could change, could forgive himself.

The thought was a nice one at least.

* * *

Seven days after the explosion, Wilbur found himself pacing around his house.

Well, it wasn’t really his house, perse, but one of the many abandoned buildings. He shared it with Techno and Phil, Tommy and Tubbo living together next door. He was alone at that time of day, Phil attending to his leader duties and Techno out, god knows where.

Which gave him plenty of time to think.

Mostly about the events that took place a week ago. The terror and confusion of the TNT he’d set up exploding. The deaths, the injuries, the look George had on his face when he’d killed Sapnap. So, completely broken.

It wasn’t technically his fault, but he was the one who planted those stupid bombs. He was the one who decided that blowing the country up was the only course of action that made sense. It wasn’t. It fucking wasn’t, and Wilbur was an idiot for even entertaining the idea.

Unable to stew in his own misery any longer, he opened the door and ventured out to find company, heading in the direction of the white house for reasons even he didn’t know.

He wove through corridors, going to the only place he knew for sure how to get to. Two minutes of speed-walking later, and he was knocking on Phil’s office door. Rustling behind the wood told him that he was in at least. Wilbur shifted around on his feet uncomfortably, fidgeting with the hem of his jacket as the door opened.

Surprise shone on Phil’s face, replaced by a warm smile as he gestured Wilbur to go in. He did, sitting down on the chair in front of his desk. “What is it Wilbur? Anything wrong?” he asked somewhat nervously.

Wilbur shook his head. “No. No, I just-you’re doing a good job at…all of this,” he said, waving his arms around. “I’m proud of you. If that’s not weird, considering you’re older by like, fifty years.”

Phil let out a hearty chuckle. “I’m not that old, Wil!”

“Whatever you say, you goddamn boomer.” They laughed together. Wilbur’d nearly forgotten how it felt to laugh with someone.

Phil sat down in front of him and leaned forward. The desk was cluttered with all sorts of books. Wilbur could see the Declaration of Independence, the one he wrote for L’Manberg so long ago. It couldn’t have been more than six months, but it felt like years. “I’m sorry we haven’t talked for a while. It’s been so busy and I—”

“I get it, Phil.” Wilbur gave him a half-smile. “Seriously. You’ve done a lot more for this place than I ever did.”

“You gained independence, didn’t you?” Phil asked, frowning.

Wilbur nodded. “And then immediately lost it,” he muttered bitterly. “God, I’m such an idiot.”

“Yup.”

Surprised that Phil didn’t refute his statement, he kept going. “I’m so irresponsible.”

“You are.”

“I’m a danger to society.”

“Got that right.”

Frustrated, Wilbur found he couldn’t stop. “I should be locked up.”

“Probably.”

“I don’t deserve you guys.”

“Definitely.”

“The explosions were my fault.”

“Partially.”

“I shouldn’t run this country.”

“Without a doubt.”

“Jesus Christ, Phil!” he snapped.

Phil didn’t look perturbed, staring at him calmly. “Yes, Wilbur?”

“What is _wrong_ with you?”

“I’m telling the truth.” He shrugged. “All of that and more was true about a week ago.” He squinted at Wilbur. “It still could be. But that’s your decision to make.”

Wilbur felt anger burning in his gut. “That—”

“I walked into you,” Phil charged on, “threatening your little brother. You threatened to skin him alive.” His tone was soft, calm, sounding perfectly comfortable with the situation. “I don’t think you’re allowed to dispute your own words here.”

Wilbur hung his head, face burning. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

Phil shook his head, standing up. “I’m not the one you should be apologising to.”

Right. Tommy. Tommy who’d stuck with him through all of this. Tommy, who’d given away his disks to give L’Manberg its independence. Tommy, who’d stuck with him throughout the election and the whole aftermath. Tommy, who’d lost so much but still gave everything he could.

Tommy, who’d been afraid of him.

Phil had walked around to stand behind Wilbur and took his upper arm, lifting him to his feet. “I think you’ve got a lot of healing to do in the next few months before you think about going back into politics.”

Wilbur chuckled. “We should go on a fishing trip. Father-son bonding, eh?”

“I’m not that old!” Phil squawked even as he pulled Wilbur into a bear hug. “Welcome back, Wilbur Soot.”

“It’s good to be back.”

* * *

**_Three months later…_ **

****

The blackstone had been cleared away completely a month after the explosion, and disposed of in lava. No one wanted any reminders of the events that had taken place previously.

It was Tubbo’s idea, but Tommy was the one who brought it to life. A simple idea indeed, that involved a fair amount of work, what with planting trees, shovelling dirt and collecting beehives. But everyone chipped in to help, even if ‘help’ was cart around food and drink for breaktime.

Slowly, over a course of weeks, the country (not Manberg _or_ L’Manberg anymore) started breathing life again. Trees lined the paths, berry bushes grew in backyards, vines crept up the side of buildings and every house had a flower bed on the windowsill. Light shone on the people in the country with no walls or dictators.

Phil stayed as the leader, not really sure exactly what he was, whether he was a president or a king, but he found he didn’t mind all that much, giving everyone time to relax for once.

Tommy sat on one of the many benches in the new garden where the podium used to be. The place was unrecognisable now. The holes were mended, the blood was cleaned, the debris was completely gone. The place had been scrubbed clean of its history, which Tommy, for one, was very grateful for.

He smiled up at Tubbo, who ran around to each beehive stuck to the young oak trees and greeted each of them individually, happy at the look of pure joy on his friend’s face.

Skeppy and Bad strolled through those gardens many times, walking all over the place, spending as much time together as they could. God knew what could happen if they were separated again.

Tubbo waved at them madly, disrupting the bees that had settled on his shoulders. “Hey!”

Skeppy waved back and Bad giggled slightly. “Hello! How are you?”

“Good!”

There was no reason to yell, but there was also no reason to go to war and they did that anyway, so fuck reason.

“Are we yelling?” a new voice roared. Tommy sighed, recognising Sapnap from a mile away.

“Yes!” Skeppy yelled back. 

“Awesome!”

Groaning, Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Shut the _fuck_ up!”

“Language!” Bad replied, sounding absolutely scandalised.

“Love ya Bad!” Sapnap screamed.

“Aw, I love you too!”

Skeppy gasped, hand on his heart. “Don’t you dare steal Bad from me, you panda mother—you _muffin!_ ”

“I’ll do whatever the heck I want, Skippy!”

“ _You take that back!”_

“No, _you!”_

Tubbo stepped forward, grinning ear-to-ear. “Gentlemen, gentlemen, we should resolve this peacefully. May I suggest a game—”

“You’re on,” Sapnap shot back.

“Let me finish!” Tubbo giggled. “Play a game of chess! Whoever wins gets to, uh…” He turned to Tommy. “What are they fighting over exactly?” he whispered

“Bad.”

“Whoever wins gets to keep Bad!”

“Oh, you are _so_ on.”

“Right back at you Mr Snapjack!”

“Shut up!”

Tommy leaned in toward Tubbo, brow creased. “Do either of them know how to play chess?”

Tubbo grinned in a positively devious way, and Tommy felt his lips mirror the smile. “That’s the point, Tommy,” he whispered.

“You evil genius.”

Bad huffed in mild exasperation, dragging Skeppy away by the sleeve. “C’mon. Let’s go practise together.”

Sapnap’s face fell, struck with the fact that _he didn’t know how to play chess._ “Ha, well would you look at the time, I gotta go! For unrelated reasons, have y’all seen Dream and George anywhere?”

“White house.”

“Thanks!” he said, dashing away.

Tommy guffawed to himself. Dream and George were in the nether together.

* * *

Wilbur, Techno and Phil sat on the pier together, all three of them silent as they waited for the fish to take the bait. Techno was getting more frustrated by the second. “This is boring. Why’d you make me come again?”

“Because,” Phil said with a smile, “you’ve been spending too much time on your potato farm and that cannot be good for you.”

“I am contributing to society—” Techno began calmly, cut off by Wilbur.

“Listen here, idiot,” Wilbur snapped, turning to him. “If winter hit right now and every other crop died including your remaining farm,” (he ignored Techno’s gasp of shock there) “so the only thing that everyone had left to eat were the potatoes you’ve harvested already, by the end of those four or so months, we will still have at _least_ half of your stock left untouched, and every citizen in this god-forsaken country stuffed and happy like a fucking turkey.”

Techno pursed his lips. “Yeah, sure, but what if we run out?” Wilbur had to physically stop himself from slamming his head onto the oak planks beneath him.

Phil’s hand rested on Wilbur’s back steadily. “Maybe take a break. I’ll look after it if it’s really bothering you.”

Techno grunted assent, looking disconcerted and extremely tired, so Phil made a mental note to let him sleep in the next morning.

* * *

George and Dream stumbled their way out of the nether, both of them blackened by soot and ash from lava and close calls with ghast fireballs. There was still awkwardness in the air around them, which was mostly cool indifference on George’s part. But forgiveness was hard when the crime was so extensively traumatising.

“Did you get everything you needed?” Dream panted, leaning against the portal frame. George, grinning to himself (an unfortunately rare sight these days) nodded, staring at the quartz crystals in his hand, mesmerised by their shine.

“Ready to head back? You look like shit.”

“Feel like shit,” Dream grumbled, straightening. George huffed a laugh, and Dream ignored how his own lips twitched upward at the sound. “What do you even need that for?”

“I wanted to decorate the new garden. It’d be like a…a symbolism thing. The podium was blackstone, this is…well it’s not white stone, but it’s white. Guess it’s like a, god, I don’t know, a sign. Things moving forward, I guess,” George admitted quietly. Dream didn’t quite understand it himself, but he knew the others would.

Truthfully, the last months hadn’t given Dream much of an explanation into what had happened in those few days between Phil joining the server (George had confessed that he’d pulled some strings to get him in and Dream didn’t mind as much as he thought he would) and him returning. There were some bits and pieces of information thrown around occasionally, but only enough to give him a partial timeline of events.

He didn’t dare press. In the house he shared with Sap and George, god knew how many nightmares, how many panic attacks and flashbacks the others had. The wound was far too fresh to prod at that point. So he left it.

“Right,” Dream said finally. “Come on. We gotta check if Sap’s gotten into any fights.”

A look, so exasperated and _done,_ so utterly _George,_ crossed his face, drawing a chuckle from Dream. “Damn it.”

They started walking through the streets, looking quite a sight in their dirtied armour and drawing bemused glances. One person stopped them, however.

“Hello!”

“Hey Niki,” Dream smiled. “How are you?”

“Alright.” She was wearing an apron, smeared in pink frosting. Some of it was brushed lightly over her cheek. “Want to come inside. You look like you just went to the nether.”

“Ding, ding, ding!” George exclaimed. “Congrats, you just won, uh, hang on.” He dug through his pockets and withdrew a single ender pearl. “This!” he said, passing it off to her.

She giggled. “Thank you very much.” Niki tucked it away.

Dream spoke up. “We can’t stay very long. Sapnap’s somewhere, and we have to find him before he does something.”

She tilted her head at them. “I heard that Skeppy and Sapnap are going to compete later today over, god, I think it was Bad?” George sighed. Dream suppressed a laugh.

“A competition in _what_ exactly?”

“Well, uh—”

“Oh _god,_ there you guys are!” Speak of the devil, Sapnap sprinted up to them. “You gotta help me. I’m gonna verse Skeppy in chess but I don’t know how to play!”

“Why would you- _why would you verse someone in a game that you don’t know how to play?”_

“No matter. Come on, Sapnap. We’ve got a long few hours ahead of us. Thanks for telling us Niki!” Dream yelled back

“Thank you for the ender pearl!

“No problem!” George replied, dragging both of his friends away by the sleeves.

(Skeppy ended up winning the game, which lasted for about two hours, by sheer dumb luck mostly. Techno fell asleep after the fifty-sixth time he saw an opportunity for a checkmate. Niki brought snacks for everyone so that they wouldn’t starve. Tubbo dozed off on top of Tommy who kept complaining about it, but refused to let Tubbo out of his sight nonetheless. When Skeppy finally won, Sapnap damn near threw himself across the table to tackle him, which resulted in high speed chase around the country that involved a lot of screaming. Dream wheezed so hard he fell off his chair and couldn’t get back up, so George had to attempt to drag him back into a sitting position. That failed and they both ended up on the floor, losing their minds. Phil and Wilbur glanced around at everyone, happy and content for the first time in months, and smiled to each other. Things were okay. Finally.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not me bullshitting the ending
> 
> Hello! Thank you all so much for reading this story and getting to the end! If you enjoyed, leave a comment or a kudos! Both make my week.

**Author's Note:**

> schlatt is most definitely terrified of the slime man no i do not take constructive criticism


End file.
